


the woman in the woods

by theelusiveflamingo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASOS Spoilers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1602830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/pseuds/theelusiveflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t her fault, right, that she was thirteen years old and running to her siblings’ rooms for protection like she was still a baby who wet the bed?  No way.  Her brain was overloaded.  This could happen to anyone, if they experienced the kind of shit that happened to her family.  First Robb in Afghanistan, and now Mom, and the nightmares—</p>
            </blockquote>





	the woman in the woods

She tried just not sleeping, scrunching up in her big sweatshirt and blasting the Metallica CD she’d swiped from Jon, turning up the volume whenever her eyes began to droop until it was so loud she was afraid Sansa would hear it through the wall.

But after a few days of falling asleep during sixth period like she was on a timer, the talks in the principal’s office started, the talks of going to the fucking shrink started, and finally Arya had no choice but to put the headphones down and let the nightmare come back.

It wasn’t her fault, right, that she was thirteen years old and running to her siblings’ rooms for protection like she was still a baby who wet the bed?  No way.  Her brain was overloaded.  This could happen to anyone, if they experienced the kind of shit that happened to her family.  First Robb in Afghanistan, and now Mom, and the nightmares—

The first few nights it was Sansa’s room she crept into.  Sansa might tell her to fuck off, but she wouldn’t  _mean_ it.  She loved to sit around with Jeyne and giggle about what their dreams meant.  Maybe she’d understand.

"Sansa," Arya would say, shaking her shoulder.

"Ugh.   _It’s 3 AM, Arya._ What?”

"I had the dream about Mom again.  Can I sleep in here?"

"I’ve been dreaming about her too, Arry."  They said the same things every night.  "It’s going to happen…Dr. Luwin says it’s part of the process…"  And she’d yawn.  "You should go see Dr. Luwin with me sometime.  He’s really, really helpful."

"Yeah, no."  And Arya would jump into Sansa’s bed and curl up on the extra pillow that smelled like Sansa’s stupid flowery shampoo, feeling only a little safer.  There was no way she’d ever be able to tell Sansa what she dreamed.  Sansa would tell Dr. Luwin.  They’d come with a straitjacket and lock her up in a mental institution, just like in the movies.

3 AM on the dot that night saw Arya bolting upright in bed, her pajamas soaked with sweat, her lips open in a twisted scream that didn’t make any sound.   _Couldn’t_ make any sound.  Her body was frozen, frightened.

 _Bran_.  The word cut through her fear.   _Bran Bran Bran Bran_.  If she kept thinking his name, she could move her legs, get out of bed, dare to move through the shadows in her room and down the silent hallway.   _Bran Bran Bran Bran._ Her nerdy little brother would be the one to understand.  Jon would probably, too, but he was back in school up north.  Bran was her only shot.

"Bran?" she said softly as she pushed his door open, hoping he heard her over the creaking wood.

"Arya?"

"You’re still awake?"

"I can’t ever sleep anymore.  What’s wrong?"

Bran had his window open and his white-noise machine on.  The room was full of the sound of wind rustling leaves, tree branches swaying together like a forest.   _Like the forest in my dream._

Her body felt cold and hot at once, like she was getting sick.  She wished.  She wanted to go to the doctor tomorrow morning and get some pills and have this all be over.

"Can you turn that thing off?" she said, sitting down at the edge of Bran’s bed.  "It’s fucking freaking me out."

"It helps me relax," Bran said, but he turned it off because he was Bran and that’s just how Bran was.  "What’s wrong with you?  You look scared."

"How can you tell?"

"I’m good at  _observing_.  Why did you come to my room?”

"I’ve been dreaming about Mom."

"So have I," Bran said.  "So has Sansa."

"But she comes back, in my dreams."

"In mine, too.  Last night I dreamed we were out shopping and she couldn’t get my wheelchair into the car.  It was stuck or something, it didn’t make sense.  When I woke up I was so sad because that would have sucked, if it were real life, but I wanted it to be real so bad."

"Yeah."  Arya sprawled next to him.  "My dreams are…different."

"Like what?"

"Promise you won’t send me to a mental hospital?"

"I promise."

"Pinky swear otherwise it doesn’t count."

They linked pinkies.

"Could you just tell me already?" Bran sighed.

"Okay."  Arya’s instincts were telling her to crawl under Bran’s covers.  Her skin was prickling.  But she had to be brave.  "Every night I keep dreaming I’m in the woods.  With people.  I don’t know who they are, but I’m happy, and we’re going to have a picnic or something, I don’t know.  And then suddenly everyone just…goes away."

Bran was breathing weird next to her, like he was nervous, but that didn’t make any sense.

"And then what?"

"And then it like…I don’t know, it’s weird.  The forest gets dark, but it’s still daytime. But it just seems…dark.  And then I hear this…noise.  It sounds like a monster from a movie.  Something’s shuffling its feet and it’s making this dry scratchy growling noise.  And I know it’s trying to talk even though it isn’t saying anything real, but I just  _know_ it’s trying to say things to me, and I’m so scared, I want to run.”

"What do you do next?"  Bran’s voice was thinner and higher than usual.  He sounded almost as scared as Arya.

"Then I see Mom, and I’m so happy, because Mom’s here to rescue me, and I’m about to run to her and tell her that we need to get the fuck out of the woods.  I’m about to run over to her and then I see…I see…"  Arya took a breath.  If she said it aloud, it would become real.  She couldn’t turn back.

"Mom isn’t Mom.  She is, but…her skin is all weird, like spoiled milk.  She has scratches all over her face.  Her hair is messed up, it’s half-white, it’s not like it’s supposed to be.  And her neck, it has this huge cut across it, and it’s  _bloody_ , it’s like someone…”  Bran was crying next to her, but she had to finish.  She was almost done.  It was almost out of her.  ”Like someone…And then she opens her mouth and it’s her, she was making that noise, but she can’t talk, she’s just making that noise, and then when she takes a step toward me, I wake up.”  She didn’t feel any better.  ”Why are you crying?  I’ll get you a tissue.”  She reached for his tissue box.  ”At least you don’t have to have this dream every night.”

"No."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, no.  Y-you’re wrong."

"Wrong about what?   _How am I wrong_?”  Arya was so confused she pinched herself.   _Still awake.  Fuck this, I wish it was a dream too._

"What you just said.  Isn’t true.  Because I have that same dream."

“ _What?!”_

"That’s why I can’t sleep," Bran whispered.  "I have the same dream as you.  Every night."

"What the fuck does it mean?  How does this even happen?  How can we get it to stop?"

"I don’t know," Bran said, staring straight at her.  " _I don’t know_.”


End file.
